


Moving On

by summerartist



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bittersweet, Chronic Illness, Food Issues, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Needles, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-23 01:58:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20884289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerartist/pseuds/summerartist
Summary: The Doctor is bitten by a parasite from Gallifrey and has to deal with the symptoms. It’s a good thing that there’s a human around that always seems to find him.(Basically intense hurt/comfort with the 10th Doctor and Wilf)





	Moving On

(Please don't read if descriptions of eating issues and joint pain disturb you.)

“A cane! A cane! Why did I never think to get a cane?” The doctor muttered as he limped around the Tardis.

The Tardis had crutches in the Medbay, but it was a longer walk to fetch them and they were considerably less maneuverable. He would be better off using the walls for support.

At last, the Tardis materialized on solid soil. He hobbled to the door and pushed it open. He grumbled when he realized that he was too far from his desired destination. The Tardis controls must have been malfunctioning again. Well, he would have a hard time of it getting under the consoles to fix the navigation circuits with his dodgy leg.

“Excuse me, could you point me to the nearest ATM?” The Doctor asked a passerby.

“There’s none around here, luv’,” the woman called. She was on her way without giving him any more information.

“Right. Thanks.” The Doctor muttered to himself.

He limped across the street, hip seizing up and cramping. Gasping, he made it over to the nearest wall and leaned against it. Wedging himself against the support of the concrete, he locked his Tardis remotely and took a breather. He let the steady rhythm of the breeze lull him. He wasn’t going to get anywhere soon if he couldn’t gather his strength. First things first, he needed to try to eat again, but the mere thought of putting edibles in his mouth seemed almost abhorrent.

He was momentarily distracted by overhearing a father and son in the midst of an argument as they passed by. It was good-natured, over a game that they had been playing. Keeping his eyes shut, the Doctor smiled. The expression tapered off into a grimace as he contemplated his next move. It was so many steps away and his pain killer was already wearing off.

“Excuse me, I- Doctor!”

The Doctor’s eyes snapped open and there was Wilfred Mott standing in front of him.

“Am I hallucinating?” The Doctor said quietly.

“Doctor, is that you? I wouldn’t think I’d be seeing you for a while yet.” Wilf reached for him as if to wrap him up in an embrace. The Doctor flinched. Wilf halted his movements and stared at him. “What’s wrong?”

The Doctor reached up, giving the man’s fingers a small squeeze before letting go. “Nothing. Nothing. Just a little surprised to see you here so far from London.”

Wilfred’s features lit up. “I’m here visiting an old mate of mine so I’ll be here for a couple days. What about you? Popping in to save the planet or sommat?”

“No. No, just stopping for a brief holiday. Needed a little R and R.”

“Oh, well you’ve come to the right place. There’s a little duck pond just down the road and stables on Picket’s Street. Scenic place, real nice,” Wilf gestured off towards the distance. “Tell you what, we can go grab lunch and I can show you the sights. Make it a double ‘oliday.”

That offer would have sounded completely appealing on any other other day, but the Doctor’s cramping leg and stomach reminded him that he wasn’t fit company right now.

“Another time, perhaps. There’s something I need to attend to first.” Frowning, the Doctor started to push off of the wall. Maybe if he could build up enough momentum he could stagger away without too much fuss.

“Hold up, wait a moment. What’s this all about? You look like you’ve been through a shock.” Wilfred caught the Doctor’s arm and the alien made a small choking noise. His leg wobbled but stayed steady.

“Please, I’d like to stay but I have to give you a rain check. Peculiar phrase, that. Anyway, I’ll see you later.” The Doctor didn’t get far before he stumbled and would have fallen over if he hadn’t caught onto the edge of a bench. Gasping, he clung onto it and waited for the pain to die down.

“You’re not well,” Wilf pointed out.

“Aaah, that’s well spotted,” the Doctor groaned. “Please, just- I don’t know.”

The Doctor’s plans were all sorts of tangled up now that the various components had gone wrong. He had attracted attention and not in a complimentary way.

“Can you just-” The Doctor sat very firmly down on the damp earth.

He gave up trying to speak and just breathed through the pain. He dimly became aware of Wilf’s hand on his shoulder, anchoring him. They stayed there a moment, the Doctor feeling a giant wave of gratitude towards Wilfred Mott as the fellow said nothing more. Wilf simply stood by his side, waiting. The Doctor’s desperate breaths died down and he touched the hand on his shoulder.

“Wilf, I might need a little help,” the Doctor admitted.

“’Course. At your service, Doctor.”

As the Doctor’s features twisted into a grateful smile, he found that he might have the strength to get up again after all.

* * *

“So, all of this is due to a tick?” Wilfred asked carefully.

“Pip, a pip. They’re like ticks, well, entirely different type of parasite but still blood suckers. Not the most pleasant of acquaintances when they’re carriers for certain bacteria. The disease they spread is still incurable,” the Doctor explained. “It’s no longer on the Tardis.”

He settled himself very gingerly on the edge of the other bed in the hotel room. His coat made a clinking noise as the pockets knocked together. The vials of pain killer could take a lot of abuse but the Doctor knew that the sooner he took off the coat the less likely it would be that it would spring a leak. He started to squirm out of the fabric and found the coat sliding off.

“Here, let me get that. You just lie down and rest for a bit.” Wilfred respectfully set it aside and waited for the Doctor to lie back.

The Doctor fell down onto the mattress with a sigh that was abruptly cut off.

“Doctor?”

“I’m fine. Just, could you do me favor? There’s a few vials of clear liquid in my right coat pocket and an injector cylinder in the left pocket.” The Doctor was breathing heavily again as Wilf rifled through his coat pockets.

To distract himself, he started unbuttoning his suit jacket one-handed while he waited for Wilf to pass him the equipment. He swallowed and contemplated how he was going to give himself the shot with Wilfred there. Taking off his trousers to get at his thighs would be difficult in this position, so he was left with injecting his belly fat. It always smarted with this method but at least the sensation wouldn’t last long.

Wilf carefully placed the requested objects into the Doctor’s palms and watched as the alien loaded the injector. He placed it habitually in his mouth like a sonic screwdriver as he unbuttoned his shirt. In one violent and shaky movement, he jabbed the device against his abdomen and held it there. He would have prepped himself for this, but he was growing a bit careless with the pain.

“Wha- hey. You’re supposed to clean yourself off before you do that. It works like a needle, right?” Wilf protested.

“’mergency,” the Doctor grunted. “Besides, enclosed needle, so less risk of infection.” He disengaged the injector and watched detachedly as blood beaded up on the surface of his skin. He heard Wilf huff at him. Giving a wry smile, the Doctor waited for his blood to coagulate.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re rubbish at this taking care of yourself lark?”

“Yes,” the Doctor said softly.

His tone was unapologetic as he shut his eyes and willed the pain to dull. He lay there in silence in Wilf’s hotel room. The air was still, peaceful. He eventually heard Wilf get up and leave the room. The lock clicked into place and the Time Lord attempted to center himself.

The Doctor was just on the verge of dozing when he heard Wilfred return. The elderly human sat on the edge of the bed, grunting as he set something else down as well. The Doctor did not open his eyes as he heard some type of container being opened and paper being ripped. His suit jacket was twitched aside. A cold swab was wiped over the injection site and the Doctor smiled as he felt himself being cared for.

“So the Pip that bit you, did it die?” Wilf asked.

“No, it’s still living most likely. Probably even had babies. They won’t be carriers, what with being stranded from Gallifrey.” The Doctor nestled deeper into the pillow. He felt a jolt of surprise run through him. “Did you just stick a plaster on me?”

“Thought it might help.” Wilf rose and patted his arm. “Let me know if you need something. I’m going to read for a while.”

A promise to leave was right on the tip of the Doctor’s tongue, but he found it dying away as he realized just how tired he was. It had been such a generous offer for the Doctor to come back here that he hadn’t known how to refuse. Maybe he had hoped to experience that steadiness of life that he often felt around the man. It may have been quite silly, but he did feel as if anything were to happen, he was not the only one with the fortitude to bear it.

* * *

After a day, the Doctor had at last persuaded Wilf to go and visit his friend like he had set out to do. The Doctor hadn’t left the hotel yet through an error of his own. But, he was planning to leave while Wilf was gone.

Getting out of bed had been a chore, as had been walking across the street to consult a map. He had borrowed a few notes off of Wilf with a promise to pay him back, and was going to use the money to dine before he left. It was still devilishly tricky to find something that could possibly appeal to him. Not much had stayed down, which didn’t seem hopeful for his whole waiting-this-illness-out plan.

He found himself in a nice little cafe only a block down from the hotel and was nibbling away at one of the few meals that they had available. His insides twisted uncomfortably, but he plowed on with the chore. This could take a while.

“There you are! Had me worried when you didn’t leave a note.”

The Doctor started guiltily and plastered on what he hoped was a sincere smile. “Got a bit peckish. Have a seat. Join me.”

Wilf pulled up a chair. “It’s good to see you eating. I’ll get something too.”

The Doctor grimaced from behind his teacup as he eyed the vast remains of his meal that he had been unable to consume. It suddenly felt as if he was attempting to dismantle the Great Wall of China brick by brick. Well, he could always sonic it discreetly away if he had to save face. It wasn’t even that large of a meal, it just felt so chronically big.

They had a pleasant conversation, about stars and traveling, all good things. The Doctor frequently laughed. The laugh didn’t carry much, but nonetheless he felt all the better for it. He had to excuse himself during the meal to go and vomit, but was able to hide any traces of evidence. Despite everything, Wilfred kept him animated, kept him talking. The Doctor limped out of the cafe with a grin and two lighter hearts due to the company he kept.

“Stay for another day, Doctor,” Wilfred said out of the blue.

The Doctor opened and closed his mouth as his mental gears attempted to catch up. How had the human known-?

“It doesn’t take a genius to work it out. You never stay in the same place long. Stay a while, heal up some more. Earth is a good a place as any to do that.”

The Doctor halted and thought over Wilf’s words. Wilf was right, Earth was a good place as any to get his health back. He had friends here. Donna might not be able to see him, but that still left Wilf and Sylvia.

“One more day,” the Doctor accepted.

“Good, good.” Wilf smiled. “Might as well stay here, at the hotel.”

The Doctor nodded.

* * *

“Wilf? Wilf?” The Doctor pushed up from the mattress, suppressing a scream as he tried to pull himself upright. His joints were on fire, blazing white hot. For the first time in years, the Doctor swore violently. He instantly shut his mouth and clenched his jaw.

“All right, I’m up. I’m up. What’s going on?” Wilfred’s sleep-weary voice rasped out.

The Doctor whimpered.

“What is it? What do you need?” Wilf rose and joined him on the bed. His hands hovered tentatively over the rigid Time Lord.

“Get behind me, I need back support. My leg and my hip- can’t get comfortable.” the Doctor panted, each breath sending unbelievable waves of pain through his nerves.

Wilfred did as he was instructed and moved to hold him. The Doctor just barely stopped him from putting his hands over his abdomen.

“No, back to back. I need to lean against your back,” the Doctor corrected him. As much as his subconscious appreciated Wilf’s affectionate near-hold, he knew that it would send utter agony ripping through him.

It seemed to take Wilfred a painfully long time to turn around and press against the Doctor’s back. The shock of the bracing pressure made the Doctor cry out. Wilf remained steady.

“Pain killers- must have worn off. Either that or my joints are getting worse.” The Doctor tried to breathe through the pain and focus on Wilf’s presence. “Could you distract me? Take my mind off it.”

“What about your medicine?” Wilf motioned towards his coat.

“Leave it. Just- just tell me something, sing me a sea shanty. Donna said-Donna said-” The Doctor hissed.

“Okay, just wait a moment. Ah, What Shall We Do With a Drunken Sailor will have to do.” Wilf proceeded to sing to him.

The doctor felt the human’s lungs expand and contract as he sang in the stillness. The Doctor let his eyes fall shut as he mentally latched onto the voice. Pain still radiated through him at intervals, but the firmness at his back kept him from crumpling over. Wilf must have sang and talked to him for hours. While the Doctor never would have requested this, he could not deny that he needed it, soaked it up like it was the only thing keeping him in existence.

By the time the sun rose, Wilf and the Doctor had managed to arrange the Doctor’s back upright against the wall while Wilf slept by his feet. The Doctor held his right hand up and gazed at it for a moment. He exhaled and let his arm fall to his side. Wilf did not stir, exhausted after keeping the Doctor company throughout the night. The Doctor rose carefully out of the bed.

Despite his attempts to remain silent, he whimpered once or twice. He collected his jacket and shoes, watching the peach colored light slowly envelop the dewy grass outside the window. He took one last look around and his eyes alighted on Wilf. Keeping one foot solidly on the ground, the Doctor braced his hands on the bed so that he could lean over the slightest bit. He pressed a kiss to the gray temple and straightened up. Wilf’s features twitched, but he did not wake.

The Doctor left, hobbling down the road by himself. Dawn light lit his path and he followed it to his Tardis.

The End.


End file.
